


Wrist Watch

by lancesface



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Sherlock's POV, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lancesface/pseuds/lancesface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU-Soulmates. Universe where every one is born with a small mark on the inside of their wrist counting down to the time when they will meet their soulmate. Sherlock has little interest in meeting his soulmate until a certain event changes his mind for him; or should I say a certain person?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrist Watch

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh! First fanfic! I got this idea when my cousin and her hubby got tattoos of clocks on the inside of their wrists which had the exact time they met. Remember; first fanfic, so please be nice. All constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy!

 

Ever since he was a small boy Sherlock had wondered about that curious little marking on the inside of his right wrist.  It was so interesting because he did not know its purpose. One day, when he asked his mother what the function of it was, she simply smiled a knowing and bemused smile and told him that he would understand when he was older.

 

That simply did not squander the small boy’s interest for the peculiar drawing. It was a tiny little clock. It was small enough that it could easily be looked over and it read the date to something in countdown form, down to the second. If one thought about it the thing it most resembled was a tattoo. The only issue with that hypothesis was that tattoos were permanent and didn't change. This annoyed Sherlock to no end because his would always read less time than what he went to bed with.

 

Mycroft and his other family members were of no help either. They always told him that one day he would understand and to not worry about it. Idiots, if any one knew Sherlock Holmes they knew that he could not leave a question unanswered, so little Sherlock turned to the next best thing, the Internet. From what data he was able to collect by observing, all the kids of his year and above had these similar markings as well, but they began to taper off in the teenagers be had watched walking on the University campus. He needed more to go on then just his observations though.

 

Several hours later Sherlock had found what he was looking for. It was not at all, though, what he was hoping for. He had been hoping that it was a countdown to his moment of glorious success, his time of death, or even when he would find his permanent occupation in the world, but alas life had thrown him what ordinary people like to refer to as a curveball. It was a countdown to when he would meet his soul mate, the person he was supposed to love and adore for all eternity. The very thought of being stuck with the same person for the rest of his life made Sherlock blanch. What worried him even more, though, was the fact that the person could be completely inept and dull.

 

It was then that Sherlock, in all his 10 year old glory, swore to himself that he would just avoid finding his soul mate and he could live his life the way he wanted to; forever.

 

This tactic proved highly effective if not a tad bit tedious, boring, and mind numbing. It was as he began to get older that this avoidance technique became a smidge more complicated. Now all the girls in his year were comparing wrists and wondering when theirs would read zero and then just disappear like all the markings did after the two people found each other. People would ask him what his watch read and he didn't like having to answer those questions. Though he felt the whole ordeal to be pointless and boring he still felt like people should keep their noses out of his business.  He would have to up his avoidance skills if he was going to keep from finding his second half.

 

Sherlock found that spending as little time around his classmates was actually quite enjoyable. He no longer had to submit himself to the torture that took on the form of social conventions such as small talk. It also gave him sanctuary from the mobs if kids who brought it upon themselves to make Sherlock's life a living hell on earth. Instead he busied himself in the world of science. Conducting his experiments quelled him into a state of peace. Playing his violin aided his avoidance strategies even further because who would dare interrupt a musician at work.

 

Many years later, even as boredom led the way to the drugs, and other less than desirable habits, Sherlock never forgot to simply avoid the people who occupied his everyday life. He spoke to his dealers as little as possible and, when he was high, made sure it was in complete isolation as to not provoke any unnecessary socialization.

 

Then, of course, Sherlock made the mistake of upping his dosage. Mycroft made sure that after Sherlock overdosed and nearly killed himself that he would stay in rehab until his habit was broken. The only reason Sherlock complied was because DI Lestrade wouldn’t let him consult on crime scenes when he was high. During this time Sherlock was still wary. His marking still slowly counted down, everyday, getting closer to the day when Sherlock would be forced to meet his soul mate.

 

He secluded himself even further after rehab. He hid out at Bart’s lab and experimented into the small hours of the morning. Some days Molly would leave just to come back to find that Sherlock was still in the same position she had left him in. In the beginning, Molly had had a little crush on Sherlock, but her endeavors quickly turned fruitless when she saw that Sherlock’s wristwatch was still on its countdown.     

 

Through all this time, there had only been one time when the "tattoo" had thoroughly terrified Sherlock. He had been asleep in his bed, for once, when pain shot through his shoulder. He had jerked awake, ready to face the intruder that was inflicting this agony upon him, only to find he was unable to move from all the pain that was in his chest. He swiveled his head, desperate to see who his attacker was, only to come up with no one. He quickly deduced that he had not been drugged or kidnapped. Suddenly his gaze caught on something glowing red near his hand. As Sherlock moved his hand to look at the mysterious red orb, it began to move with him, and it dawned on him that the red glow was emanating from his marking.

 

When he had gone to bed the clock had read 451 days 15 hours 31minutes and 48 seconds, now, in big red glowing letters, it blinked 00 in all categories. Sherlock was frightened and relieved at the same time. Frightened because of the searing pain ripping through his upper half and relieved that maybe he had no longer any soul mate to find. Maybe it meant that his original mate was no longer a match and had been traded off to another unsuspecting human.

 

He was just beginning to relax with the dull ache in his shoulder when another bout of tear jerking pain tore through his body. Then it clicked inside his big massive brain. This was not his body being removed from his second half, it was the pain that his soul mate was in; it was his soul mate dying. He'd read that when a soul mate was dying before they met their other love you could feel it and Sherlock could definitely feel it.  He was all of a sudden very worried; he didn't want this soul mate to die.

 

"Come on damn it!" He shouted at his wrist. The clock had begun to slowly tick upwards again He didn’t want his other half to die; he didn’t want to meet them but they certainly didn’t need to go and die.

 

1 day…2 days…3 days…0

 

This was painful to watch and feel at the same time. It felt as if someone had stuck a white hot poker through his shoulder and was now twisting it.

 

5 days…10 days…25 days…30 days…0

 

“Come on, you can do it, don’t die on me!” Sherlock was nearing tears because of the pain that was now bordering on excruciating. He didn’t know why, all of a sudden, he was so emotional. It was like his heart was being torn by some invisible force.

 

30 days…42 days…58 days… 64 days

 

The numbers finally stopped and rested at 64 days. The hour, minute, and second number slowly started to tick down again in its calm steady pace like it usually did.

 

Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief, the pain was gone, his “tattoo” was slowly counting down, and, from what he could figure, his soul mate was safe and alive.

 

Maybe this soul mate thing wasn’t his forte but he did want to meet the person that could go through that much pain and live. Maybe this person would more interesting than he had originally planned.

 

Sherlock still holed up at the lab, he still avoided personal interaction, and he still avoided his brother. He had no interest or need to go out and see people.

 

XX

 

“ ‘Bit different from my day.” Said the small, limping man who walked into the lab at Bart’s. He was shorter on the spectrum and had sandy blonde hair with a mix of some graying hairs. No tan above the wrist and a military posture. Limp, clearly psychosomatic, so trauma from his military career, interesting.

 

Oh, wrists, right, avoidance.

 

“Mike, I need to borrow your phone, there’s no signal on mine.”  Sherlock said to the man standing next to stranger. He knew Mike didn’t have his phone, he usually had it in his right front pocket but there was no lump there to indicate that it was there now, Sherlock wanted to see what the muscular military man would say to Mike’s response of the obvious that he didn’t have it. He didn’t know why, he just felt the need to interact with the stranger.

 

“Erm, here, use mine.” the man said, after Mike had informed them that he did not have his mobile, shifting his weight around he could grasp it and pull it from his pocket without dropping his cane. Interesting, he was so eager to help.

 

“This is John Watson. He’s an old friend of mine” Mike said quickly as John shuffled forward so Sherlock could take the phone from his hands.

 

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock questioned while typing out a hasty text. This man was in need of questioning if he was to become Sherlock’s new flatmate. It wasn’t as if it was hard to work out. Sherlock had informed Mike of his need of a flatmate but the unlikelihood of finding one due to the fact that no one could put up with him. Now here was, just after lunch, with an old friend, easy.

 

“Afghanistan but how did you..?” Sherlock was no longer listening, though; he had caught an important bit of information under John’s sleeve. A faint white glow was seeping out from under the layers of clothing. Sherlock took a quick peak under his sleeve, a move so minute that no one without an extremely keen sense of sight could have seen it, his symbol was glowing too. Ah, he had forgotten that when he had awoken this morning that it had read 0 days. Now this would be interesting.

 

“Mike, give us a moment.” Sherlock snipped quickly. Mike gave him a weird look but turned on his heal and exited the lab through the door of which he first came through. Sherlock turned to John, who was giving a confused yet still intrigued look, and walked swiftly into his personal space.

 

“Lift up your sleeve” Sherlock demanded

 

“What? Why? What are you doing” John asked, suddenly very perplexed by this man who was demanding that he pull up his sleeve and crowding his face.  

 

“Because” Sherlock ground out “ if I'm correct, which I am, your soul mate marking is glowing white as is mine and I would think that you would want to check for yourself instead of me telling you.” Sherlock huffed out a breath and waited for a response.

 

John slowly pulled his sleeve up to reveal a faintly glowing clock on the inside of his wrist which read all zeros. His face looked astonished at first and then held a look of wonder upon it.

 

“Um, er, i-is yours glowing too?” John asked timidly, not wanting to seem forward even though this man had just told him that his was emanating that saint like light as well. He watched as Sherlock pulled his sleeve to expose a white glow similar to John’s.

 

“Well, this is a bit more than I woke up for this morning.” John chuckled.

 

“Yes, well, I suppose it’s more than I was expecting as well.” Sherlock responded with a similar laugh in his own deep baritone voice.

 

“Not to be too bold but may ask your name?” John questioned, though it would seem they were meant for each other, he would like to know the name of the man he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

 

“Of course, the name is Sherlock Holmes and you are John Watson” Sherlock stated matter of factly.

 

“Pleasure to meet you, and now that we actually know each other’s names, may I ask how you knew I served in Afghanistan?” John was pleased to have met his soul mate, elated even, but he had to know how Sherlock had known to ask that question.

 

“Yes, well, your conversation as you walked in told me that you had studied here at Bart’s, so medicine. Your posture and haircut are all military fashion, the way you hold yourself as well. Your hands are tanned but not above the wrists, which crushes the idea of the tan coming from a holiday. So military man with a medical background; army doctor. Your limp is also psychosomatic so that leads wounded in action. I know your limp is psychosomatic because your limp is very bad when you walk but when you stand you don’t sit or lean on something besides your cane, like you’ve forgotten about it. That leads to two options; Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock finished his deductions and waited. Usually laying out a person’s military background got him a broken nose or at least a few choice words thrown in his direction. He waited but nothing came. He looked to see John with his mouth open and eyes wide.

 

“That was amazing!” John exclaimed “absolutely brilliant.” He genuinely looked amazed as he gazed with wonder at Sherlock.

 

“Really?” asked Sherlock usually this was when people were either walking away from him or hitting him, one of the two. “That usually isn’t other people’s response.”

 

“Hmm? How do other people usually respond?” John asked, not willing to believe that other people wouldn’t find Sherlock’s abilities flabbergasting.

 

“Usually with the words ‘fuck off’ or with their fist against my face” Sherlock answered, his face portraying how badly it actually hurt when people did that.

 

 “Well most people are idiots, aren’t they?” John said with a small smile on his face.

 

“Yes, that’s been my initial impression anyway, though, you seem to be above the status quo as well.” He smiled an appreciative smile towards John and then asked

 

“So you came here looking for a flatmate and found your soul mate. Figure we can still get a flat share?”

 

“Yeah, I would hope so.”

 

They smiled at each other each realizing how much better they felt. The happiness bubbled over into a symphony of laughter, John’s light chuckle mixing in harmony with Sherlock’s deep rumble.

 

“How’s that gunshot wound by the way, shoulder correct?” Sherlock queried. The smile faltered for a moment before another one took its place. This smile was once again one of admiration.

 

“Fine. How did you know I was shot in the shoulder?” This was an answer John just had to hear.

 

“When you were shot I was shot, too. I woke with a searing pain and it felt as if I was going to die. I’ve read that if one half of a pair is near death the other can feel it as if it is happening to them as well. The pain was ripping through my shoulder and upper chest area so I deduced that you had been shot there; not a hard leap.” Well, that wasn’t what John had been expecting.

 

“and that’s true?! I thought it was just a story.” John asked incredulously.

 

“Well, I would hope so; either that or I'm having some pretty severe phantom pains.”John and Sherlock looked at each other then burst out in mad giggles.

 

“This has been an interesting day, hasn’t it?”John asked after they both had calmed down enough to form coherent sentences.

 

“Yes, it has, and hopefully there will be many more of them to come.” was Sherlock’s response.

 

They smiled for what felt like ages, neither wanting the magical moment to stop. Eventually Sherlock remembered that he did have a case to solve and John had a bedsit to pack.

 

“I’ll meet you at the flat ‘round 7:00. What’s the address?” John inquired.

 

“The address is 221B Baker Street. Don’t forget.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did ya like it? I hope you did. Comments are more then welcome!  
> XOXO


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